Characters: Bobby Darin (includes references to Sandra Dee and Andrea Yaeger)
Warnings: RPF, including references to signifcant others.
Notes: Written for MMOM 2012, Day 17. Written for joanne_c. Unbeta'd. Comments and concrit welcome.
Summary: Bobby has a special relationship with the audience.
Bobby came off-stage, trembling and covered in sweat.
Before he could get out of the drenched tux, or even remove his stage make-up, he collapsed onto the couch in his dressing room. Katie, the nurse provided by the Desert Inn, helped him fit the oxygen mask over his face and Andrea held his hand while he inhaled deeply trying to get the air further into his lungs.
Not much time left, he thought, except he’d been thinking that his whole life. Even when he was doing two a night at the Copa and then going to Sardi’s afterwards and getting up at 9AM the next morning for a recording session. Now it took all day to get it up for one show and half the night to recover, but it was still worth it. Still the greatest feeling in the world.
He wasn’t sure Andrea completely understood; Sandy certainly hadn’t.
It had been years since he did any weed. The doctors had read him the riot act on that, but the oxygen had almost the same effect. It was a sweet high and it took him back to those days. He remembered an argument with Sandy, one of many; although in a way their whole marriage had been the same argument over and over. He’d wooed and won her knowing she was a special creature and needed lots of attention. It wasn’t till after the wedding that he found out he couldn’t give her as much attention as she needed; nobody could.
She’d been so gorgeous, a perfect, glamorous angel, sitting in the front row, watching him onstage. He knew the crowds were trying to get a glimpse of the fabulous movie star. Most of them couldn’t believe that Sandra Dee had ended up marrying some scrawny wop from the Bronx. Hell, sometimes Bobby couldn’t believe it himself.
It was the jealousy that blew him away. She hated how much he loved the audience; couldn’t understand why making movies and records wasn’t enough. As far as she was concerned, anything he gave the crowd was being taken away from her. Especially when he was too tired to do anything but put an arm around her shoulder and fall asleep. He thought she wouldn’t mind, given all the hang-ups she’d come to him with, but no. All of sudden, Mary’s sheltered princess had become a sexually demanding woman. Bobby did his best, but even back then a good show could really take it out of him, and Sandy wasn’t interested in any “substitutes.” He was never quite able to convince her that anything short of full-on intercourse was the proper way to express marital devotion. That’s why he never corrected her number one accusation of alleged emotional infidelity.
“You’d rather make love to the audience than to me!”
Bobby shook his head, coming back to himself. He could feel Andrea gently nudging his shoulder.
“You ok, babe?”
He nodded, taking a last deep inhalation before removing the mask.
Andrea. He was lucky to have her. Why she’d want him in this state was anybody’s guess, but at least she didn’t begrudge his greatest need, even if she made the same basic mistake.
On a good night, Bobby had the crowd in the palm of his hand, squeezing every bit of joy, emotion, and pleasure out of them. Driving them crazy at his very touch, pushing just a little too far until it was almost painful, and then speeding up, going faster and harder and harder and faster and until the climax, leaving everybody limp and satisfied including himself. That wasn’t at all like making love.
It was just like jerking off.